“Anything?” Jack asked.

“Nothing. Not even a whiff of wet fur,” Klessan said. If her long brown hair wasn’t in a severe braid at her neck, she would have been fiddling with it.

They were atop the wall near the main gate, Jack come to relieve his friend from her watch. The afternoon sun was creeping downwards, and the scent of pine was on the wind. A bird sang in the trees nearby, trying to attract a mate, and insects buzzed in the air.

“Maybe they all swam away,” Jack said. He kept an eye on the treeline as Guards and townspeople relieved their fellows. After a week of it, the routine was well-practised, but the gnawing tension was worse than ever.

“Or they all ate each other,” Klessan said, wishful. She lowered her voice so that the dozen or so men and women on the stretch of the wall with them couldn’t hear. “I don’t know how much longer the town can take this.”

Jack grimaced, not voicing his agreement. The men and women on the wall had tight grips on their crossbows and stiff spines, and that was the ones just starting their watch. Those climbing down looked spent by the hours of watching and worrying, another shift of empty dread gone.

“Have you had any luck?” Klessan asked. “With the thing…?”

Jack’s grimace deepend. ‘The thing’ was his attempts to teleport back to the Guild with other people. “The chicken didn’t make it.” It was not going well, but at least he had been able to replenish their potion stock after cleaning up all the blood.

“Guildmaster still hasn’t changed his mind?”

“No. I couldn’t reach Maze either,” Jack said, tone short.

“No one else can help?” Klessan asked, frustration clear in her voice.

“Not to evacuate,” Jack said. “Jaunt is dealing with a flood in the north, and Fade is under contract with Lady Grey.” It wasn’t uncommon for Will-inclined Heroes to learn how to navigate the Cullis Gates, but as Jack was learning, taking living creatures along was something else entirely.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, filled only by the rustling of wind through the trees.

“This can’t continue,” Kelssan said. One hand stroked the whip at her hip.

“The alternatives are worse,” Jack said.

“I know,” Klessan said. She let out a breath. “I’m going to get some sleep. Good luck with-” she stopped suddenly.

Jack was already scanning the treeline, sword leaping into his hand from its sheath. Grave chill crawled up his spine, though he didn’t know why. A moment later, he realised. The forest was utterly silent, not a single animal to be heard. A ripple of unease spread along the wall as more began to realise something was wrong.

“They’re here,” Klessan said grimly.

Jack focused, and his newest Expression pulsed out into the trees. In the woods to one side of the road, four balverines lurked. One was eating something, and he had a feeling he knew where the bird that had been singing had ended up. “Four, just inside the treeline to the left, spread out.”

“Ready crossbows,” Klessan called, voice low but pitched to carry.

The wall bristled with loaded crossbows, bolts long since readied and waiting. Pale faces looked out at the innocuous treeline as a sudden fear swept them, but their hands were steady. The few Guards amongst them bolstered their resolve, and the Heroes offered something greater - hope.

“If they’re here, they'll be elsewhere too,” Klessan said.

“I’ll send someone for the others,” Jack said, agreeing with the unspoken reasoning. Little chance that these four had wandered up to the town on their own, or of their own accord. Not with the behaviour of the plague so far. “Sarl,” he said. A young man, barely older than himself, jerked and looked over. “Go and pass word to Kravos and the other Heroes. They’re needed-”

Sudden movement, and dark figures blurred forth from the treeline. Jack called upon his Will, and it answered, lighting streaking from his outstretched hand to smite the largest. Lethal grace turned into tumbling smoking meat, the corpse skipping along the ground before coming to a stop, momentum spent.

Klessan’s bow sang, taking another balverine in the spine, leaving it twitching in the dirt, and a chorus of snaps followed it as every crossbow on the wall fired, bolts sprouting from the remaining two.

“Reload,” Jack ordered.

“Only shoot if you need to,” Klessan said. “Conserve your bolts.”

The two Guards already had a foot in the stirrup of their crossbows, heaving the strings back into place, and the townspeople were quick to follow. Bolts were retrieved from the buckets that lined the wall and slotted into place, pointing out into the forest like the plague could emerge at any moment.

“Sarl,” Jack said, reminding the man.

The dark haired townsman started and looked over, attention having been fixed on the trees. Jack gestured with his head into the village, and he placed his crossbow down carefully, before almost leaping from the wall, running once he hit the ground. He passed the previous watch as he went, those who had been with Klessan having turned around in a hurry to return once they heard the clamour.

“What is it?” a blue Guard demanded from below. “Are there more?”

Jack cast his detection Expression out, but found nothing. “Not yet, but -”

A clamour rose across the village, shouts and pained howls, drawing the eye. Over rooftops and past trees, they could make out defenders on another section of the wall firing down at unseen foes.

“We need to cover more ground,” Klessan said.

“I’m on it,” Jack said. He had never had cause to use his wraith Expression in such a way, but there was little time to waste. He focused, eyes fixed on an empty spot on the wall across the town, and his form glowed brightly, before he was suddenly somewhere else.

Jack swayed, or perhaps the world around him did. His hands grasped the sharpened tips of the wall before him, supporting himself as he waited for the moment to pass. He felt thin, stretched, like he was both here and there, and he forced his eyes to close. He heard the snap of crossbows, the curses of their wielders, and snarling outside the walls as he waited for the world to still.

There was an oath as someone noticed his presence. “Wraith!”

“How many?” Jack asked, opening his eyes as the swaying stopped. His Will felt fine, whatever drawback he had just encountered not a matter of power. A quick sweep of the killing ground before the wall found one dead balverine and another dragging itself through the dirt, a bolt in its lower spine, while a third vanished into the trees.

“Five all told,” the man said. He was a Knothole local, with tattoos around his eyes. “Rushed right at the wall and then ran once we got one.”

A final bolt put the crippled balverine out of its misery, and Jack frowned. The balverines couldn’t touch the walls with the protections imbued in them, so why - ? He turned his gaze on the wall. Those assigned to this stretch of it had clustered, drawn in by the attack. A howl sounded elsewhere, punctuating his realisation.

“Spread out!” Jack called. “Leave no gaps!” The White Balverine was more than strong enough to leap the walls, and if it managed to do so without being seen…

The watchers began to do as he ordered, only for three balverines to rush from the trees once more. A blue Guard was quick to shoot, only for the beast to twitch to the side, ignoring the bolt that scored a wound along its flank. Those who had been following Jack’s order immediately forgot it, taking their own shots, but the ragged volley was easily avoided.

Jack pointed his sword at the juking animals, and his old favourite answered. Lightning chained between the three foes, putting an end to their dodging. He cut the current of power, judging his reserves. They flowed swiftly, but he had a suspicion that the day was only beginning, even as the sun began to fall below the treeline. “No gaps,” he said to them again.

“They won’t get past us,” a Guard said, crossbow tucked into his shoulder, ready to fire.

A blast echoed over the town, one of Whisper’s blast globes, and it drew eyes for a brief moment. The Guard’s crossbow snapped, and a yelp answered - in the single moment of distraction, another balverine had lunged from the woods, but now it scampered back, bolt sticking from its shoulder.

“Good shot,” Jack said. Klessan could do better, but that was Klessan.

The Guard’s regulation goatee twitched in satisfaction, as he inclined his head.

The young Hero pulsed his Will, and frowned at what he discovered. “There’s five more balverines out there.” Crossbows came up, but hesitated when no target could be seen. “They’re hiding in the trees, waiting. Not clustered together.”

“Waiting for what?” the tattooed man asked.

“Opportunity,” Jack said. “They shouldn’t be able to climb the walls, but they can still distract us, wear us down. If the White Balverine gets in again, there will be…trouble.”

The town was stirring now, a strange mix of hedgehog and disturbed anthill. Those who could protect were emerging to fight and those who couldn’t, or who had to look after the vulnerable, were locking doors and battening hatches. The sounds of probing balverines could be heard at other walls, and if one dared to look away from the treeline they could see defenders on other walls reacting.

“There!” a woman said, and the sound of a loosed bolt followed it, but there was no howl of pain, only a thunk of steel into wood. “Shit, I-”

“Don’t fire unless you have a clear shot,” Jack said. The plague’s plan was becoming more and more clear. “They’re trying to wear us down, thin the defences.” He needed to speak with Kravos.

“Yes Wraith,” the woman said, chastised. Her eyes were wide with adrenaline, and he saw it was a common situation. After so many days without a whisper, something was finally happening.

He spied Kravos on another section of the wall, back towards Klessan but on the other side of the gate. “Pass the word,” he said. He was sure the others would have come to a similar conclusion, but there was nothing wrong with double checking. “Someone from the previous watch.” Like at Klessan’s position, those who had just left had come flooding back at the sound of violence.

His orders were acknowledged without question, something that still felt strange, and he began to make his way along the wall, threading through defenders as he headed for Kravos. The man was holding his warhammer, though he hadn’t had a chance to bloody it yet, as he directed his people. There were no Guards to bolster them, but they were not needed, not when they looked to be the warriors of the town, hard and muscled and covered in almost as many tattoos as Kravos himself. Jack reached the chieftain, and the man glanced at him, before looking back to the trees. Jack followed his gaze, and found a shadowed gap below a felled tree and the ground, from which a pair of yellow eyes stared out balefully. There was a bolt sticking out of the tree just above it.

“Wraith,” Kravos said. “Think you could deal with that one?”

He really should be conserving his Will, but the warriors had heard and looked interested, and so long as the White Balverine didn’t drop down in front of him in the next moments, he would recover. “Someone be ready with their crossbow,” he said, before focusing. Like he had when felling the trees, he flicked his finger, and a blast of directed force erupted beneath the hiding balverine. It was expelled from its hiding place with an eruption of dirt, hurled into the air, and it landed heavily on the ground, one leg mangled. A crossbow twanged, hitting it in the head before it could recover.

The man who took the shot made a noise of satisfaction, receiving a bump to the shoulder from the man beside him, but their attention did not waver, watching the open area before the gates as much as the forest to the side of it. Howls echoed through the woods and shouts filtered over the village from all sides, but the eleven men under Kravos did not give into the temptation to look away.

“You have news?” Kravos asked him, leaning on his warhammer. Like his men, he was dressed simply, without armour, in the trousers and hide vests that seemed to be the style of the island warriors.

“This is another trick,” Jack said.

Kravos spat over the wall, but nodded. “Aye. Right on the shift change, as dusk nears…I’ll bet my moustache they keep it up through the night.”

“If this keeps up that long, we’re going to have problems. Near everyone is on the walls,” Jack said. There was no going back to sleep or waiting for your shift to start when the balverines that had lurked in the woods for so long had finally attacked.

“We can sleep when the beasts are dead,” Kravos said.

“That could take time,” Jack said. “Days.”

“There has to be a limit to their cunning,” Kravos said. “No beast can keep this up for that long.”

“Look at them,” Jack said, gesturing towards the treeline. “Not attacking outright, trying to make us waste bolts. They’ll keep at it for as long as the White Balverine makes them.”

“So long as the White Balverine can be kept from crossing the walls, they can do little but harry us,” Kravos said. “Whittling works both ways.”

“Tall order,” Jack said. A cool afternoon wind flowed past, tugging at his hair.

“You forced it to flee once,” Kravos said. “The moment you hurt it, it ran. Even when it had you beat.”

Jack paused. “You think it - what, that it’s a coward?”

Kravos grimaced. “It isn’t newly turned. Much as it pains me to admit, it’s clear Scarlet missed one in her purge. But the only way I can see that happening, is if she thought it was dead, and that means it was hurt. That kind of fear sticks with a beast, even a balverine.”

“Maybe,” Jack said. It was hard to picture the thing, the terror that had fought the four of them as if it were a kitten playing with yarn, as being afraid. “If you see it…scream real loud. We’re spread out along the walls, but a Hero will respond.”

There was a low laugh of dark humour from one of the warriors close enough to hear.

“Best hurry, or I’ll slay it myself,” Kravos said. He tapped at his pocket, and there was the sound of glass clinking.

Jack felt the weight of the vials in his own pockets and nodded, returning to the section of the wall he had claimed. If only it would be so easy.

There was more blood on the earth before the section he had chosen, but no new corpses, and howls continued to sound through the forest. Deep shadows were cast over Knothole Glade as the sun continued to set, taking on a blood orange hue. At times, the balverines would seem to disappear, as if they had fled, only to build up a crescendo of howls the moment the defenders started to relax. They began to avoid the Heroes, only rushing and running at the walls where they were absent, and shifting about helped only little, the beasts wary and watchful of those who could slay even the fastest of them at range.

Night fell, and torches were lit along the wall, though they were of mixed use, able to cast their light only so far. Balverines seemed to loom out of the dark treeline without warning, black fur blending in with the blackness. Even the trained Guards were missing more often than not, and the defenders stopped shooting, forced to conserve bolts. Only the Heroes could reliably hit the creatures that loped through the dark, and of them only Klessan could do it without using her Will.

Food was brought out as the moon rose, waxing gibbous. Tankards filled with hearty soup that could be eaten messily but quickly were handed to them by those too young to man the walls but old enough to know what they risked, and those who had been on duty before the attack were forced from the walls and told to get what rest they could. Those who had been woken by the clamour remained, their watch started early. It would be a long night.

The night’s chill set in, and the siege became a standoff. Sometimes defenders would catch a glimpse of yellow eyes in the darkness, only to blink and lose them, leaving them questioning what they had seen. Some began to wonder if the assault had passed.

Then, a noise of pain, but this time it was human. Jack’s head whipped to the source, and down the wall away from the gate he saw a man writhing in pain, his shoulder seized by the balverine that had climbed the wall to reach him, claws near piercing through. Its jaws opened wide as it made to eat his face. Jack was there in an instant, blue light heralding his arrival, and his sword took the beast in the throat and up through the head, piercing its skull. It went limp, and he let its weight pull his sword free as it fell, but he had no time to celebrate. The White Balverine was within the walls.

There was no time to search for it. The slain balverine was only the first to climb the walls, tearing chunks out with their daggerlike claws as the feints became charges in truth. Chaos descended. Down the wall, another man screamed as he was hurled from the wall to slavering jaws below, agonised shriek rising above all else as he was eaten alive. There was no saving him, and Jack conjured a fireball in his fist, hurling it at the cluster of three balverines. It landed amongst them and exploded, cutting off the screams and replacing them with pained howls as the balverines were thrown away like ragdolls.

Crossbows snapped and fired without rhythm, defenders shooting as quickly as they could. Something crackled incessantly at the rear of the village, a constant droning, and white-blue light illuminated the tree tops beyond the wall when Jack looked. Another balverine rushed his section, heading for a Guard fighting to reload, but Jack was there with a flash, sword waiting, and it juked away, fleeing for the darkness.

It would find no succour there. Lightning crashed, leaving it twitching, but he was already looking away. The darkness was not their friend, and he did something about it, conjuring the faerie light he had first designed to help with late night library trips. Now he cast it upwards, pouring enough Will into it to throw a fireball, and a second sun seemed to bloom above Knothole. The light threw the battle into stark relief, as the beasts that had been creeping through the trees and around the walls were illuminated, flinching at the sudden brightness.

A crossbow twanged. “Got it!” a woman crowed, blood splatter on her face. It was human, the man whom Jack had saved from having his face bitten off sitting with his back against the wall next to her. He was pale, though that might have just been the fae light floating above, and he clutched his bleeding shoulder. Smoke and blood and fear hung heavy in the air.

There was no time to help him, not with the continued assault. He could hear sounds of pain and fighting coming from elsewhere on the walls, and he knew that Whisper and Duran were holding, out of sight, but holding wasn’t enough. They had to find the White Balverine and force it from the town, or somewhere would be overrun and the beasts would run amok within the walls. He thanked Avo that the White Balverine wasn’t already doing so.

Whip cracks pierced the night, first one and two, then more and more in a near unceasing frenzy. He chanced a look across the village and saw Klessan standing atop the wall itself, not just the platform, tagging each of the four beasts that had made it to the walkway. The fur of one was shot through with white, head and shoulders larger than its fellows. With each touch of her whip their muscles would lock, but only for a heartbeat, and the defenders were in disarray, missing or wounded or in no position to take advantage of them, and she couldn’t keep it up forever.

“I’ll be back,” Jack said to the man next to him.

“You’ll - what?!?” the man said, panic crossing his face as he comprehended his words.

Jack took one of the vials from his pocket. It was filled with dark red liquid, and he shook it before popping the cork off, leaving it dangling. “No time,” he said, pouring it over the wall. Some splashed on his hand, and he hoped the scent of it would be enough to put the beasts off while he was gone. “Hold the line.”

“Wait-”

The young Hero turned, and in a blink he was across the village, back with Klessan. Again he felt stretched, the wall seeming to lurch beneath him, but the near white balverine had been reaching for his friend and there was no time. It looked down on him, attention shifting from Klessan to the morsel that had placed itself within reach. He reached towards it, struggling to regather himself. His Will felt distant.

Slit nostrils twitched, and the foul creature froze, though not due to Klessan’s whip. For a long moment, flight and fight warred, instinct telling it that death stood before it. Fight won, and it drew back a heavy clawed hand.

It had hesitated too long. Jack carved its belly open, and its intestines spilled forth. Its attempted blow was aborted as it tried to catch its guts, a very human-like expression of pained dismay crossing its pointed face, its ears turning down. It did not have long to ponder its dilemma, as Jack blasted it from the wall with a flick of his finger.

“Jack!”

Jack turned at the warning, in time to see two more balverines bearing down on him, stepping over the corpse of a Guard. He was behind them in a rush of blue, making one dance and twitch as lightning burst from his left hand even as he stabbed the other through the spine, sword piercing through to emerge from its gut. He kicked it off and took the head of the other while it was debilitated.

Klessan had the third handled, her whip curled around its throat to lock it in place with her Will, while she drove a dagger into its guts and up through its chest to reach the heart, half her forearm within its torso. She released her Will, whip pulling back to curl at her hip, and let the weight of it free her bloody arm as it collapsed.

A pained groan came from below, but it was one of the defenders, knocked from the wall. Half of the dozen who had been stationed on it were dead or wounded, though a quick glance at other sections revealed them to be better off.

“Get the wounded to the healers!” Klessan was shouting, pointing at someone below. “We need more-”

Behind her, a clawed hand grabbed the pointed tip of a log in the wall, and yellow eyes rose up as the balverine pulled itself higher. Jack was already reaching out, Will building, when an unholy shriek erupted from the beast, and it hurled itself from the wall. The shriek was mirrored around the town, some fading into the trees, others cut off abruptly. The sudden silence was a jarring, physical thing.

“What was that?” Klessan whispered harshly. She was breathing heavily.

“The White Balverine must have left the walls,” Jack said. His fae light was still floating above, and he turned his attention to the forest, Will reaching out. “They haven’t fled. I can still sense them in the treeline.”

“The White Balverine?” Klessan asked. There was a streak of blood across her temple, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand, thinking it sweat, smearing it into her hair.

“No, normal,” Jack said.

“Shit,” Klessan said. “We need - we need to reset. They almost had us.” Her eyes were wild, roving along the wall and the trees. “I’ll make a sword for you later,” she said glibly, trying to play it off.

“I’ll owe you one before sunrise,” Jack said. His Will was thrumming in that familiar way, ready to be set loose.

Klessan laughed, though it lacked humour. “Shit. How did it even get in? The others would have raised the alarm.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. Below, the injured who had leapt from the wall to avoid the balverines were being helped away, the dead left where they lay. There was just no time. He gripped his sword tightly, the leather of his gloves creaking.

“I can hold here,” Klessan said, breathing starting to return to normal. “Go, check with them. Just, hurry back if they come again.”

“Right,” Jack said, already moving along the walkway. “They’re at the back of town?”

“I heard Duran shouting earlier, and Whisper’s Will,” Klessan said, bending down to help a Guard lower the corpse of his fellow to the ground below them. “Hurry.”

Jack began to jog, threading through the watchers on the wall. All were in some degree of fright or panic, though some controlled it better than others, and he did his best to appear calm and collected. The dark blood on his sword and staining his white shirt drew many an eye, and it seemed to steady them. The stretches of the wall between the Heroes were large, too large to be safe, but it seemed that Klessan had seen the worst of it in her position at the left of the main gate. Those he passed had clearly been confronted by the beasts, but few were the dead, even if the buckets holding crossbow bolts were greatly diminished. Already there were runners replenishing the stocks, helping the wounded down the ladders as they did. There was a harried urgency to it all, as none knew how long the reprieve would last, and all tried to keep their voices low, fearing that to break the silence would be to spell its end.

He saw Alain, on the wall even missing an arm, there more to support his men than to fight, strong voice calling orders and acting as a steady presence. The left sleeve of his black uniform was tied off, though he had a pair of heavy waterskins slung over the shoulder, and was carrying them around to those who needed them. Elona, the chieftain’s wife, was wrapping the badly gouged limb of a woman with bandages, and she looked up as he passed, giving him a nod.

Duran was throwing a balverine corpse off the wall when he reached him, another beast whose fur rippled with white, partway through the transformation into a greater evil.

“Jack,” the mountain clansman said as he launched it out with a grunt. “Problem?” He had his war paint on again, two lines of blue ochre running from below his eyes to his jawline, though it was applied messily this time.

“The White Balverine,” Jack said, wasting no time. “Did you see it?”

“No,” Duran said. He picked up his hammer from where it had been resting against the wall; there was gore and viscera clinging to it, and to his hands as well.

“It got in somehow,” Jack said.

“Not along here,” Duran said. He accepted a waterskin from a young woman going along the walkway, popping the cork and sucking back greedily. “Even before you sent the light up, there’s no missing it.” He held out the skin to Jack.

Jack accepted it, pouring it down his throat as quick as he could, barely touching his tongue. “I’ll check with Whisper,” he said, handing the empty skin back to the young woman as she returned. He didn’t expect good news - if she had seen it, she would have alerted them somehow.

“Wait - how many have you killed?” Duran asked.

“Oh, Skorm,” Jack said, blinking as he drew a blank. “Ten?”

“Only four,” Duran said, “and that after they climbed the walls.” He let out a breath, and Jack noticed there were bags under his eyes, partly hidden by the ochre. “We’ve got to be thinning their numbers.”

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Jack nodded grimly, but said nothing, turning to move on. They were thinning the plague, but there was no way to know how many were left, and it would be for naught if they could not hold the walls.

Even if they slew them all, the White Balverine still waited.

He continued on, passing by the wounded and those who seemed surprised to still be living. There was a concentration of Guards between Duran and Whisper, and it seemed they had sent those nearest to them away to bolster those without a Hero to rely on. Whisper herself was in discussion with a pair of Kravos’ warriors, pointing at the sloping roof of a house behind her, one that had a decent vantage of the wall and walkway.

“Whisper,” Jack said as he reached her. Her armour was somewhat ragged, and there was a rent in it across the back, but that only revealed the fine chain beneath the dress layer.

“Wraith,” she said, breaking from the warriors. “You did not see it, did you.”

“No,” Jack said, mouth thinning. “No one has.”

One of the warriors jumped from the walkway to the roof, clinging to the thatching. He turned, and the other tossed a bucket of bolts to him, before making the jump himself. The pair of them scrambled up, straddling the highest point, their intent to fire back on the wall. They were expecting the balverines to assault it again.

“It will return,” Whisper said, confirming his thoughts. “We must take the fight to it when it does.”

“I don’t know why it backed off,” Jack said. “If they hadn’t let up…” They could kill the beasts, but there were only four of them, and once past the walls, the town was vulnerable.

“Are you still positioned to the left of the gates?” Whisper asked.

“No, Klessan took that spot,” Jack said. “I’m halfway down the wall heading towards them.” He gestured towards the front of the town.

“Someone will have to search for it, when they come again,” Whisper said.

“Can we afford to?” Jack asked. The walls had been one unlucky fight from being breached.

“Can we afford not to?” Whisper returned. “Your detection Expression is the best solution. You can find it quickly, and signal us.”

Jack nodded slowly. It wouldn’t take long to run a grid of the town, and he was sure he could tell the White Balverine apart from the people. “As soon as they assault the walls, I’ll go.”

A long, slow howl began to build in the forest, cutting their conversation short. Activity on the wall stilled as all realised the reprieve was over. Dark figures ran through the trees, drawing the eye and goading someone to take a shot.

“You’ve still got it?” Jack asked.

Whisper tapped the bandolier that ran across her chest. There were empty straps in it where once there had been blast globes, but there were still two dark vials, and a blast globe with a red streak on its surface. “I have them,” she said. More howls sounded in the trees. “Good luck, farmboy.”

“Take care of yourself, citygirl,” he said, and even in the middle of it all, they were able to share a faint smile. He turned, heading back to his position. The night was still young, and their trial was not over.

The grounds around Knothole Glade were littered with balverine corpses here and there, many even slain by crossbow quarrel, but soon it became hard to add to them. The slow and the unlucky were the first to die, but now it was the swift and the cautious who remained, and they harried the defenders like the wolves they were, seeking to wear them down by exhaustion. The night wore on, scattered clouds oftimes obscuring the moon, and Jack had to refresh his fae light to hold back the darkness. The balverines never charged the walls in truth, only feinting and taunting, but they could not be ignored, not when their feints could become an assault without warning. The night dragged on, and though defenders were relieved, there was not a man who went to their beds. They gathered in the feasting hall, eating slowly with their weapons close to hand, hearing the occasional snap of a crossbow, waiting for the howls that would herald a new assault.

Jack had taken to walking circuits of the wall, reaching out into the forest with his sensory Expression in search of the White Balverine, but he could only find its minions, prowling through the trees or laying in wait. “That one is only playing dead,” he said, as he passed by Klessan’s section. He would take care of it himself, but his Will was only holding as strong as it was because he was sparing in his use of it.

The Guard he spoke to and the men near him looked startled. “How can you tell?”

“Will,” Jack said.

“That Hero magic?” one man asked, interested, even another aimed his crossbow.

Jack met Klessan’s eyes and they both made a face, one disgruntled, the other gleeful.

“That’s right,” Klessan said. “That Hero magic.” There was a yelp, and the balverine sprouted a bolt from its neck, thrashing briefly in the dirt before going still.

Making a rude gesture in farewell, Jack continued his circuit, and another hour passed, fewer and fewer balverines making their presence known, and more time passing between sightings. Again, the defenders began to hope that the worst had come and gone, but there were those who felt otherwise, feeling grim surety that the beasts’ cunning knew no bounds. It was as he reached Whisper’s section of the wall that their fears were confirmed.

A chorus of howls rose from the trees, loud and piercing enough to have the defenders clutching their heads. The beats were charging as one before the unholy sound had faded, a pack of seven heading right at them.

Jack flicked his finger, and the pack was thrown about and scattered, slowed and disorientated enough for the defenders to fire a volley, killing few, but some pushed on. Two balverines hardly slowed as they reached the wall, climbing it at a sprint and unhindered by its protections - the White Balverine was within the walls - but then Whisper was there. Her staff lashed out with more than physical force, and her foe was launched in an arc back towards the treeline, where it landed with a screeching howl, impaled on a thick branch. The other struck in her moment of vulnerability, but it was false, and her dagger tore out its throat even as her staff spun to deflect grasping claws.

“Go!” Whisper commanded, turning to him. “Find the beast, before we are overrun!” A ball of buzzing light seemed to drip from the end of her staff, and it swelled, revealing itself as a ball of lightning as she whipped it towards more attackers.

There was no time to argue. The long tense wait had returned to frantic defence, the charges and jukes of the beasts a true threat once more. Jack leapt from the wall, rolling as he landed, and then he was sprinting towards the town centre. Any sighting of the White Balverine would have resulted in an almighty clamour of panic and pain, but there had been nothing. How the beast had gotten within the walls, he had no idea, but he could think of only one place where it could hide. Within half a minute, he was at the edge of the park where they had fought the white creature before. He reached out with his Will, free hand resting on the vials in his pocket, ready to wet his blade with his blood and take the fight to it.

But the Expression detected no beast.

There was no time to waste, not with howls and screams alike rising from the walls, punctuated by the snap of crossbows and whip, of lightning buzzing distantly. Jack couldn’t cover the entire town with his detection, not if he wanted anything coherent, but he could search it in sections, and he wasted no time. He began a sweeping search, sprinting from point to point and extending his senses each time. He found islanders running to the walls, he found people hiding in their homes, he found the wounded being carried to what care they could offer, but he did not find the White Balverine. Not in the park, not near the feasting hall, not by the warehouses or under an eve. There was no trace of it - yet the walls were assaulted all the same.

Jack checked in on the portion of the wall he had claimed, knowing he had been gone overlong, but to his relief it was almost disturbingly quiet. He could see Kravos smashing the hook of his warhammer into a balverine’s head and heaving down, driving the tip of the wall spike into its chest, and far to his right he could see the flicker of Whisper’s lightning illuminating the trees from below, but his section of the wall was almost calm. Disturbingly so.

“Have any attacked here?” Jack asked of the man beside him, scanning the treeline.

“Not since you left,” the man said. It was the same who had worried over his departure. “Not even a false charge.”

Jack glanced at the splatter of blood he had poured over the spikes of the walltop. It hadn’t soaked into the wood at all, instead dipping down like rain over steel. “Hold your positions,” he said. “We can’t afford to leave any gaps.”

“Aye,” the man said, eyes fixed on the treeline, though they couldn’t help but stray to the side when a balverine made a charge towards Kravos.

He couldn’t afford to linger in a place that no balverine would attack, not with everywhere else under threat. Leaping from the walkway again, he rolled and came up running, heading right for Klessan. Again her section was being pressed hard, and the shadow of Scarlet Robe’s statue was cast over him as he passed beneath it, glancing up as he did so. The shadowed face stared down sternly, as if judging his efforts, but then he left it behind.

Klessan’s whip cracked as he neared, a flurry of blows so quick that they almost sounded as one, his friend again standing atop the wall. Climbing the ladder would take too long, so he stepped into his wraith form and out onto the walkway. Three balverines were halfway up the wall, two with quarrels sticking from them, though they didn’t slow them at all. Klessan focused on the two closest to her, leaving the third out from the paralysing touches of her whip, and it climbed without wondering why, mindless in its hunger for flesh. It reached the top, but Jack was ready, and his sword reached out to take it through the eye and skull. The blade that Duran had forged for him had spoiled him for any other, so easily did it cut through muscle and even bone.

Even as Klessan let one of the remaining beasts be, free to climb the wall to its death, Jack took in the scene. The section had been hit hard, and there were only five defenders left with her. Some were dead, but most were only wounded, being helped away from the wall below the walkway. Grimly, he saw that two of the surviving defenders had bite wounds, and he took the head of the balverine as it rose above the wall. They were dead men walking, but they would protect their home for as long as they could.

A choking howl rang out from the last balverine as Klessan strangled it, her prehensile whip wrapped around its throat. It was not the whip that hurt it so however, but the walls it was held against. It struggled and tried to push away, uncaring of the tightening grip on its throat, but the tyranny of gravity saw it fall back into the wall, the town protections kicking in once more.

“How is it doing this?” Klessan demanded, waiting for the balverine to die.

“It has to be getting in somewhere we can’t see it,” Jack said. He wiped his blade clean, sheathing it. Around the town he could hear the balverines retreating, disappearing again into the darkness of the trees. “It’s bigger and stronger - can it make the leap from the trees??”

“We would see it,” Klessan said, adamant. She was holding her arm, fatigued by the effort of pinning the balverines in place. “No way is it coming over the walls.”

“I’ve checked everywhere throughout the town,” Jack said. “The park, the halls, each street.” His frustration was clear in his voice.

“Can it smell you coming?” Klessan asked. “Move around you?”

“Not without being seen by someone else,” Jack said. “Not a chance.” His fae light was fading, and he fed more Will into it, refreshing it and casting back the encroaching shadows once more.

“Check with the others,” Klessan said, even as she slumped and sat, back against the wall. She closed her eyes, stealing what respite she could. “There can’t be that many left, right?”

It was not a question in need of an answer, and Jack squeezed her shoulder as he moved on. It did not take him long to reach Duran.

“Anything?” the mountain man asked, in the middle of tying his hair back, out of his face. Blood was streaked across his ochre markings.

“Nothing,” Jack said. “It’s not in the town.”

“It has to be,” Duran said. “Nothing else could be letting them through.”

The casualties here weren’t as bad, Duran better suited for physically fending off any balverines that reached the walls. The defenders were still hard done by, however, some few bearing claw marks and all of them starting to get that wild eyed look that came from running too hot for too long. Their shift rotations had fallen apart, and they were beginning to pay for it.

Jack shook his head, unable to think of an answer. “How’s your Will holding up?” he asked instead.

“Strong,” Duran said, lips thinning. “I’m going to need it, after. You?”

“Strong enough,” Jack said. Duran would likely be needed to save lives with his healing in the aftermath. If there was an aftermath. “Took a potion earlier.”

Duran looked like he wanted to make light of it, but couldn’t find the energy.

Their attention was grabbed by the arrival of relief crews, women and young men carrying food and drink and more crossbow bolts. Every defender guzzled and shovelled down what they could, hardly tasting the stew. Jack was wiping his mouth, handing the empty tankard back to someone his age when he glanced back out to the trees, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“Incoming!” he shouted, fire forming in his palm.

A wave of balverines had just emerged from the forest, racing for the wall in utter silence, not a howl or snarl to announce their coming. Scant minutes had passed since the last assault, but the defenders had assumed they would have the same respite as before, and now they were caught out with non-combatants on the wall. Everything was dropped as they scrambled to respond, many outright leaping from the walkway to get clear.

The fireball was hurled, tinged with red, and it exploded in the faces of the forerunners, throwing them back in a tumble of scorched limbs and burning fur, but it could only do so much. The rest of the wave, almost a dozen strong, was at the walls and already climbing up it, and they were no simple balverines. The fur of most was shot through with white, their claws darker and sharper, their fangs longer. The strongest of the plague had come, and howls elsewhere said it was not just there.

Jack flicked his finger at the first to reach the top, spiking it into the ground. He turned to Duran. “Klessan-”

Duran swelled, muscles bulging, and he swept his hammer along the wall with an obscenely long arm, knocking more balverines loose. “Go!”

The young Hero went, ghosting from rooftop to rooftop. There was no time to run or to follow the walkway, and he made a beeline for Klessan’s dangerously exposed section of the wall. He appeared on a rooftop in time to see his friend yank the last man with her to the side with her whip, away from grasping claws, and then he was behind her, slicing off the arms of the balverine reaching over the wall for her back. It yowled in pain and fell back, bleeding stumps scrabbling uselessly at the wall.

“Well?” Klessan asked, breathing shakily as her whip curled at her waist. “Did they see it?”

“It’s not coming over the walls,” Jack said, adamant. “It would have been seen.”

“It has to be,” Klessan said. There were balverine corpses littered everywhere before the walls now, some more dead than others, and her whip flicked out to slice the throat of one. “Unless what, they’re using sappers?”

“They’re smart but not that -” Jack stopped, cutting himself off. His eyes went to the ground beneath them. Both times, the town's protections had risen again just after he joined Klessan. Both times, the assault had stopped after he came to this point, to the left of the gates. Almost like the White Balverine was responding to him. Slowly, he reached out with his Will, searching.

“-and tell them we need reinforcements,” Klessan was saying to the man whose life she had saved. “Wraith and I will hold until you return.”

“Yes ma’am,” the man said, pale and shivering. He almost fell down the ladder, stumbling off into the town. The wounded had already been carted off, and now it was just the two Heroes and the corpses of slain defenders below them.

“Klessan,” Jack said, voice calm.

Klessan's head swivelled to him even as she kept facing the trees, his tone setting off alarm bells. “What?”

“It’s below us.”

For a moment, she stared, the words making little sense. Then she blinked rapidly, swallowing as she looked down. The ground below them was bare, no grass growing in the shadow of the wall. “How far?” she hissed.

“Not very - less than a metre,” Jack said. He could still hear fighting elsewhere, but it was distant, muted by the knowledge that the White Balverine had been so close for so long, completely unknown.

“How? Did it dig??” Klessan asked, dragging her gaze away to look out over the killing ground before the wall. There was no pit or hole, and even if there had been one they would have seen the beast enter it.

“It’s moving,” Jack warned, pulsing his Will again. The answer he received was muffled, the Expression working poorly through the earth, but he knew what he sensed. “We can’t let it get away.” He readied his sword.

Her gaze snapped to him. “We can’t. Duran and Whisper aren’t -”

There was no time to explain. Klessan hadn’t seen what he had, the way defenders were being worn down, how people died or worse each time the balverines could assault the walls. The White Balverine couldn’t be allowed to retreat and come back when it willed. The defences were already strained. They had to deal with it now.

Wraith stepped off the wall, sword tip leading the way. As he fell he channelled his Will, guiding it into his blade, and the weapon drank of it greedily as it always did. He landed, knees bending to absorb the impact, and his sword pierced the earth with ease, its sharpness and his fall driving it in almost to the hilt. He had missed the beast, but that didn’t matter. His Will built and swelled, even as a grotesque white furred arm burst from the ground before him, groping blindly. It was reaching for him when he released his power.

It was not lightning he channelled this time, but fire, an old Expression used in a new manner. However the White Balverine had gotten under the walls, it was stuck in a hole in the ground, even as it tried to free itself, and Jack meant to take advantage. In whatever tight confines the beast found itself, a fireball detonated. The ground shook, and flames spurted up around the arm, scorching it to the skin. The scent of burnt fur flooded Jack’s nostrils, but his attention was on more important things, like the long and wide furrow of earth that had just jumped and jostled, leading deeper into the village. The White Balverine hadn’t dug its way into the town. It had found a tunnel.

There was no time to consider it. The White Balverine burst from the earth in full, a shower of dirt thrown up, and Jack’s footing was thrown asunder, and he stumbled off balance until he collided with the wall. The beast was rippling with flame, blistered skin healing even as he watched, and its burning yellow gaze pinned him in place as it bared its fangs at him. The eye Klessan had shot out had regrown. A snarling rumble built, deep in its chest, and he could feel it in his bones. He couldn’t help the tremble in his arm as he reached for his pocket.

A bow twanged above, though no arrow hit the beast. It looked up in time to see a starburst of light in the sky as Klessan’s arrow exploded, alerting the town to the threat. It flinched at the sudden light, and then it grew angry, reaching for her - but then it paused, nostrils flaring.

Jack dropped the empty vial, lunging forward as his blade sought the beast’s heart. It pierced the tough skin with ease, but then it was twisting with unnatural speed, and what could have ended the fight then and there only scored a gash across its chest. Instinct saw Jack fall into his wraith form, and the claws that would have torn him apart found only air. He made to release the Expression and strike again, but he couldn’t, and he looked down - a massive clawed hand remained in his chest, curled as if holding his heart. He stepped back, and the balverine stepped with him.

He couldn’t help but swallow dryly, even as the Expression began to wear on him. Another twang, and the beast twitched. The arrow that would have pierced its eye instead stabbed into its neck, but unlike the fight in the park, this time it sank deeply into the muscle. With a snarl of rage, the arrow was snatched out, and Jack took his chance. He let himself rush forward, passing through and appearing behind his foe, dropping back into tangibility. He took a moment to gather himself to lash out at its back, but it was a moment too long, and blue light flared as he avoided its leg lashing back.

A whip crack echoed off the walls as Klessan sought to paralyse it in place, the barbed tip of her weapon seeking eyes and soft flesh. The White Balverine was scarcely slowed, if the Expression took effect at all, twitching and shifting, lowering its head, and then its arm blurred up to seize the whip itself. Klessan dropped it immediately, and she was still almost too slow to avoid being pulled from the wall, left stumbling.

Reforming, Jack slashed at the creature’s hamstring, and this time he found his target, gouging a deep wound and forcing it down on one knee. His sword sizzled and spat as his blood and that of the beast mixed upon it, and so did the wound. There was no immediate healing now, and as it turned on him he could see the cut across its chest still bleeding, though it was sluggish. Another arrow pierced it, right at the base of its skull, but beyond a flinch it was ignored. Jack bared his teeth at it in a grin, even as he readied himself to strike or dodge. It could be wounded. It could be killed.

The foul creature’s rage was stoked by his insolence, and it turned to lash out at him, movements still far too swift. Jack relied on his Expression, avoiding the blow, but none came. It had been a feint, and he had fallen for it. Instead of a blow, the beast had launched itself upwards, upwards towards Klessan, and with its back to her she had not been expecting it, caught stringing another arrow.

Klessan dropped and dove to the side, bow dropped, but even hamstrung there was no escaping the White Balverine for more than a moment. There was no time to find her feet, and she scrambled away as it lunged. Jack reached out, heart hammering in his chest, and caught it in the ribs with a blast of pure force, but still it was not deterred, only slowed. Klessan rolled, falling from the walkway, and Jack blurred up to replace her, again seeking its black heart. His sword found its chest but not where he wanted, and this time he was too slow to avoid the incoming blow. It had started before he arrived, aiming for Klessan, and that saved his life, a heavy handed blow catching him square on the left shoulder instead of claws tearing out his throat. He felt something creak and crack as he was driven backwards.

He held his grip on his sword but it was a near thing, and he found the focus to raise his first and most familiar Expression of Will, dropping through the walkway and away. He landed on the ground, flat on his back, and his breath was driven from his chest. He lay stunned, struggling to breathe.

Klessan had taken up her whip, but the blood on its tip had fallen away, and it did little except earn her the attention of the hulking beast once more. She backed away, whip cracking faster than it had any right to, and Jack could only watch, jaw clenching in pain as he tried to roll to his feet and put his weight on his shoulder. There was no time, Whisper and Duran still coming, if they had even - could even - leave their posts.

The Hero ducked and weaved faster than he had ever seen, avoiding questing claws and an idle snap of its jaws by scant inches, and even still black claw tips carved a line across her cheek, almost exactly mirroring the scar she already had on the other. The creature was toying with her for its own sick amusement, and even still one could only last so long. It seized her by the shoulder, claws piercing her where it grabbed, and she raised her arm in a useless attempt to ward the beast off. Jack forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain, and blurred forward in a rush of blue. His mind was empty of anything but a need to save his friend.

He was a heartbeat too slow. Klessan screamed, a wordless thing full of pain and denial as her arm disappeared into its jaws. The White Balverine seemed to grin as her blood welled up through its fangs, hungry eyes drinking in what it had wrought. For a key moment, it was distracted, and it was moment enough for Jack to strike. His blade snarled as he raised it high, bringing it down swiftly, too swiftly to be dodged - and it cleaved right through Klessan’s arm, taking it off just below the elbow.

Like a wolf robbed of its prey, yellow eyes turned on Jack, and it reached for him in turn. The blood on his sword had been burnt off, but it seemed he hardly needed it, and he took half the fingers from the reaching hand, prying a pained snarl from its throat. It tried to body check him, overwhelming him with its sheer bulk, but Jack was having none of it. He flicked his finger, pouring more power into it than any he had before, and the thing was hurled back in an arc, only stopping when it crashed through Scarlet Robe’s statue, shattering it.

He wanted to stop and see to Klessan as she lay in the dirt, clutching what remained of her arm to herself, but there was no time, not when the cause of the plague was rising unharmed. His eye was caught by the blood dripping from its leg and chest, matting scorched white fur. Well, almost unharmed. Blood dripped from its fanged maw as well. Klessan’s blood.

A low snarl began to rise, but it was not from the foe beast. It was from his sword, and he was in tune with it, lip curling with a rising hatred. For a long moment, they stared each other down, man and beast, all to a backdrop of distant howls and screamed orders.

Without warning, a figure loomed out of the darkness behind it, larger even than the White Balverine. It was Duran, hammer raised overhead in both hands, and he brought it down in a savage blow, mouth twisted in anger.

The balverine knew it was coming. Whether it heard or smelled him, they couldn’t tell, but it twisted out of the way, remaining claws swung to disembowel, but Duran’s size put it off, and the big man accepted the swipe to his chest to drive his blow home. It did not connect with its head as he intended, but the sickening crack of its uninjured leg was loud, and its pained howl was louder as it fell to its knee for the second time.

Whisper was there a moment later, leaping from a rooftop, her staff held like a spear. Not just like a spear - it was a spear, a spike extending from one end. It shone darkly under the fae light above, and it took the beast clean through the neck, even as its shattered leg tried to heal. The force of the strike staggered it to one side, forcing it to catch itself with one arm as its declawed hand came up to grasp at Whisper, but Jack and Duran did not give it the chance. Hammer and sword forged by Badger clan struck and sliced, even as Whisper fought with all her might to keep it pinned for them, but it could not last. Killing blows were turned aside at the last moment, and it stopped reaching for Whisper, instead taking the staff-spear and pulling it free.

Blood spurted, and Whisper had to dance back lest she be blinded by it. A hammerblow rebreaking its leg was ignored to catch a sword strike upon its arms, and Jack cut deep into muscle and bone rather than its neck, but without blood on his sword even that was only temporary.

“Just fucking die!” Jack bellowed, cutting again and again, seeking to overwhelm its healing through sheer volume of wounds - there was no time to reapply his blood, not even by cutting himself, not when it risked another friend being killed or bitten.

“Bring it down, bring it down, bring it down!” Duran was roaring with every strike, his skin steaming in the cold night air. His muscles were obscenely stretched and enlarged, and his form was shrinking and growing from moment to moment, like he was straining to maintain his size.

A dagger lodged into the balverine’s skull, behind the ear and sinking deep, and it collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. The sudden halt threw the Heroes, and they froze, the urge to attack in a frenzy until it was pulp warring with the fear that it was a feint meant to lure them into doing just that.

“Is it dead?” Whisper asked, another throwing dagger at the ready. Like the first, it gleamed with blood.

The dagger appeared to have sunk into its brain, something that would have slain any other beast, but still, they were cautious. Jack inched closer, Will buzzing under his skin, and took a closer look. Its chest wasn’t moving - but then he saw its breath misting all the same.

“It’s fakin-!”

The beast moved before he could finish his warning, leaping up on unbroken legs. All three of them pulled back instinctively, all three cursing themselves for giving it space as they did, and the creature took advantage - but not to attack. In their instant of unbalance, it darted between them, and Jack’s heart seized up as it closed in on Klessan, defenceless by the wall, but then it was diving back into the hole in the ground it had burst from, and it disappeared.

There was a moment of sudden silence, but then pained howls sounded from elsewhere, the protections of the town rising again. Jack was already moving, hindbrain making the decisions for him as he darted for the dark hole in the ground. Whisper was a heartbeat behind him as they moved in concert, sharing unspoken agreement that the White Balverine could not be allowed to escape. Duran would not follow them, they knew, not with Klessan bleeding in the dirt and missing an arm, but there was no time. One after another, they dropped into the tunnel, fae lights sent ahead the only caution they spared, and then they were running, hunched, down the narrow passage to they knew not where.

The tunnel was not new, but nor was it old, shored up by timber and packed earth, but they noted that only distantly, their focus on the gouged pawprints on the floor. They had been prey before, no matter the struggle they put up, but that was before. The beast was wounded, and they had become the hunters. Had the creature been acting with the cunning it had shown earlier, it would have laid in wait for them, ambushed them in the confines of the tunnel, but now its actions showed only panic and a desire to escape. Kravos had been right. The White Balverine was a coward.

Something heavy crashed ahead, around a bend in the passage, and the two Heroes hastened their pursuit. The floor had been on a decline as they ran, but now it began to rise steeply, and as they rounded the bend they could see at its end a bar of moonlight. Their cautious run quickened again, and Jack reached out with his Will, checking for an ambush, but he found only a bare sense of their quarry disappearing from his range.

Whatever door had once guarded the end of the tunnel was now only splinters, and they emerged into a forest glade lit by the moon. There was a pond, and two stone pillars that had once been part of some ancient building, but that was unimportant, and Jack led the way across it, casting out his Will again. The White Balverine was still fleeing, still in a straight line, but it was in range even more briefly than before. It was getting away.

“Keep up as best you can,” Jack said quickly, barely turning his head, and then he blurred through the trees, illuminating the forest for a heartbeat. He caught a glimpse of white disappearing into thick trees, but it was enough. He blurred again, passing through every obstacle in his way and keeping the beast in range. He smiled to himself, a grim and determined thing. He would just have to survive against it long enough for Whisper to catch up.

Movement at his side nearly had his heart leaping from his mouth, frantic thoughts that the Balverine had tricked him darting across his mind - only it was no beast but Whisper. There was a distortion at her feet, and she gave him a challenging smirk as she took another step and seemed to skip a dozen steps across the ground, momentum and direction an afterthought as she almost ricocheted around the trees.

Blue light flared, and Jack caught up, but then she was off again, and so was he, the two Heroes racing through the forest in truth. For a moment, it was like they had never left the Guild, just two Apprentices snuck out of the dorms to play in the forest. The patches of dark blood on the ground and on the trees put paid to the fantasy, and slowly they began to close the distance, even as the ground began to slope and become craggy. The trees began to thin, fewer old growths to be seen and more new. They could almost smell their prey.

The forest ended suddenly, an open space of old shattered trees where no greenery grew in a half circle around a grey cliffside of a tall hill. The White Balverine was halfway across the open ground, loping towards the cliff, but its ears twitched at their coming, and it put on a final burst of speed as it neared its goal. There was a dark crack at the base of the cliff, narrow and jagged, easily dismissed as just another crease if not for the desperation with which the beast was speeding towards it.

It could not be allowed to slip inside into some warren of tunnels, or worse, a passage elsewhere. Jack flicked his finger, shattering the rock at the entrance to the crack and blocking the way. It would not be hard to remove, but they would not give the beast time to do so.

The White Balverine skidded to a stop, turning to face them. It snarled, a heavy thing that could be felt in their bones, but this time it could not spark fear in them, not with the way it pressed its back against the cliff, yellow eyes shifting around for a way to flee. The two Heroes slowed almost to a stop, and they shared a final glance. They split, spreading out as they began to prowl towards their foe, cutting off any chance of escape. The dagger that Whisper had planted in its head was still there as was the hole in its neck, and so too were the wounds Jack had given it, fell blood oozing from its chest and hamstring, though the wounds he had given it after his blood had worn from his blade had healed.

Jack popped the cork in his last vial of blood, and he heard Whisper do the same, not that he took his eyes off the foe. It flinched a moment later, the scent filling the air anew, and then it growled, still attempting to cow them. Again it failed, but this time because another growl met it. It came not from another beast but from Jack’s sword, freshly wet with blood, and the Will within it and flowing between them vibrated in tune. The challenge was too much to bear, and the beast charged.

Whisper moved to meet it, staff held like a spear and its spike dark with blood. Their foe ignored her, rapidly closing with Jack, but then she stepped and she was right in front of it. Had it been uninjured, it could have dodged with ease, but it wasn’t and it didn’t, not completely. The spike that was aimed for its heart took it in the side, piercing its guts and coming out the other side, the momentum of the Balverine too much, and Whisper was forced to drop her staff and step away from a blow that would have taken her head. There was a horrid squelch as the staff was pulled free and hurled away, leaving a bloody hole, but still the White Balverine stood tall, and already it leapt after Whisper.

Blue light flared and Jack was there, and an instant later the arm that was reaching for Whisper met his blade. There was a thump, loud even in the rush of combat, and the arm hit the ground. The Balverine howled in fury and pain, snapping at Jack, but he was already gone, stumbling as he regained tangibility next to Whisper.

“This thing won’t die,” Jack said, breathing heavily. His Will was taut, like a string stretched near to breaking.

“It will,” Whisper said. Like him, she was worn, taking deep and steady breaths. She had a single dagger and one blast globe left. “It has to.”

They watched the beast carefully, even as it glowered at them in turn, holding the stump of its arm to its chest. It was hunkered down low, and all knew they were approaching the end.

“Yeah,” Jack said. He let lightning spark in his off hand, only spending enough Will to form it and make the beast wary, more a parlour trick than anything.

“I have no more blood,” Whisper said. “Only the-”

The foul creature lunged, lashing out with its remaining arm. Even sans claws it could kill, and the Heroes stepped and blurred out of the way, but the beast didn’t even try to follow them, its attack a feint. It fell into an ungainly three limbed run for the treeline, but it had none of the feral grace it once showed, ploughing through dead trees and over fallen trunks. Even so, it was already only heartbeats from the forest.

Jack didn’t hesitate. There was still some of his blood on his sword, and he rushed forward. He appeared not at the foe’s side or to block its escape, but in the air above it, almost riding the beast. He fell, leading with his blade, and he pierced its back dead centre, severing its spine and pinning it to the ground like a butterfly on a board. It gave a strangled yelp as air was forced from it and it came to a grinding halt, but still it would not die. Its legs went limp, but its arms still thrashed, trying to reach back to get at him, even with his sword driven through it near to the grip.

“Get clear!” Whisper shouted, stepping to its front while it was distracted. She threw something sparking down its snarling maw and it choked on it, severed stump reaching for her uselessly, much too short even if she hadn’t already stepped away.

With a blur Jack leapt free, leaving his sword and trusting in Whisper. A moment later there was a rush of noise and a flash of light from the beast’s head, and its body jerked. When it settled, it did not move again.

Lightning erupted from Whisper’s fist as she punched out, not a branch but a ball, and her gaze was narrowed in concentration as it fell upon the beast’s head, clinging to it. Jack flicked a finger, focused on the dagger still in its neck, and the force Expression drove it even deeper into it. The White Balverine did not so much as twitch at either assault. It was truly dead.

Darkness returned to the clearing as Whisper allowed her ball of lightning to peter out. There was sweat on her brow, and her face was wan as she trembled minutely, Will no doubt stressed and stretched. Jack wasn’t much better, only a slow trickle where once there had been a powerful river. They stared at the corpse of their fallen foe, one greater than any they had faced before. Twinblade would have been found wanting before its might, Jack was sure. A slow grin began to spread across his face as the reality of their deed sank in.

They had killed a White Balverine. They had killed a White Balverine, and they were still alive.

“We did it,” Whisper said, a mirror to Jack’s grin on her own face, disbelieving, relieved, and gleeful all at once.

“We did,” Jack said. He looked to her and found her eyes already on him, something indescribable in her gaze. He swallowed, licking at dry lips. His eyes dipped to her own.

The moment stretched out, and then they were on each other, hands scrabbling desperately. Her hands seized his hair almost painfully, holding him close, and he took her by the hips, pulling her up and in. Their lips crashed together, and the kiss tasted of blood and sweat. He jumped as one hand took him by the rear, and he returned the favour, squeezing and fondling, feeling the shift and swell of her muscles. She pressed herself into him, grinding, and he gasped, before nipping at her lip, earning a breathless laugh. Whisper let go of his hair, going down to his belt, and his pulse skyrocketed, but her hand went up, tracing over the muscles of his stomach. They staggered, balance overwhelmed by what was happening, and her hand rose higher, earning another gasp, but this one was of pain. The rush of combat was beginning to fade, and the rush replacing it didn’t quite have the same kind of pain killing ability.

Whisper drew back, the moment ended. “Are you injured?” she demanded. Her hands twitched as if to return to him, either to assess or grope, but she stilled.

“Shoulder - collar bone,” Jack said, curses running through his mind. “I’m fine. We can - we don’t need to stop.”

A bright laugh was his answer. “Farmboy,” she said, half chiding, half tempted.

“Citygirl,” Jack answered. He inspected her more closely, focusing on her health rather than - other things. Her arms still trembled finely, and he bounced out his detection Expression to check on her, and he felt the shallowness of her Will. Belatedly, he realised they also needed to worry about other balverines, but somehow that felt less pressing. “Your Will is low. Do you have any potions, or food?”

“Not all of us have an enchanted pouch,” Whisper said.

She shifted back into him, resting her forehead against his with closed eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding back a wince. For a long moment, they stood there, listening to the slowly returning sounds of the forest and each other’s breathing. Like all good things though, it had to come to an end.

“We should get back,” Jack said. In the distance, howls sounded, underlining his point.

“We should,” Whisper agreed. Neither moved.

“They’ll worry,” Jack said.

“They will,” Whisper said. Still, they didn’t move.

“Food, a bath, and bed,” Jack said.

Finally, Whisper moved, taking her head away from his to stare up at the sky and let out a long groan. “Bath, then food and bed,” she said. Like him, she was covered in sweat and blood.

Grudgingly, Jack let her slip from his arms, and took in the clearing anew. They had scarcely fought in it, the confrontation with the White Balverine being only a handful of exchanges, but still it looked like the site of some great battle, with claw marks easily seen on many of the fallen trees and remains of dead trunks yet standing. A suspicion crossed his mind, but it didn’t matter in truth, and could wait for later. “Should we take it with us?” he asked.

“I am not dragging it now,” Whisper said flatly, and he felt relieved. “The head of the beast will do for now.” She looked over to where her staff lay, highlighted by the glint of the moon on its tip, and visibly rued the distance between it and her.

Jack reached out with his Will, attaching a tendril to it, and pulled carefully. It skittered and dragged across the clearing, nearly catching on this and that, until it reached him. He caught it, the tendril almost reeling into his palm, and offered it to his - to Whisper.

Accepting it, Whisper inspected the weapon with a sigh. “This will be a bother to clean.”

“You can’t just fold it up for later?” Jack asked.

“Not without ruining the internal mechanisms,” Whisper said. “Brother would have my head.”

“Right,” Jack said. Suddenly, he felt a pit of nerves in his gut over Thunder’s displeasure, but chose not to dwell on why. He reached out with another tendril, this time taking hold of his sword, but it was too firmly lodged in place, and the Expression snapped when he tried to pull more firmly on it. It clearly still needed refining, so he trudged over to the corpse and made do with his hands, one foot planted on the corpse.

Blade in hand, he set about the business of beheading it. Whisper’s blast globe, infused with his blood, had near shredded the meat of its neck, and one eye had been torn out from within. Even in death it wore a snarl, like it might rise up at any moment to keep fighting, if not for…everything else.

His sword went up, and came down with a swish and a thunk. At least it wouldn’t heal through his attempts, this time.

X

It was hard to say who leaned on whom as they made their way back down the tunnel into the village, steps slow and scraping, driven on by the hope of rest. It had felt much shorter when they were pursuing the beast down it, but this time it seemed they had been limping down it forever. Jack kept one hand on his sword, bolstered by the reversal of the usual trickle of Will, but Whisper had no such aid, and she was walking with one eye closed at a time, just to rest them.

They hadn’t bothered to cast more than the faintest of fae lights to bob along before them, so when a flaming torch was dropped down ahead of them, seemingly from nowhere, both flinched at its light. The tunnel ended, the hole having collapsed further to block it off, now illuminated by the torch.

“That better be you Heroes I hear coming,” the voice of Kravos rang out.

Jack swallowed, clearing a dry throat. “It’s us,” he called.

“Is it dead?” came the demand.

They had limped closer now, reaching the hole that the White Balverine had first burst from. They couldn’t make out anyone through the gap, only the night sky. Jack and Whisper shared a glance. She gestured in question with the head she held in her spare hand, and he nodded. Better than trying to carry it up anyway.

Whisper threw the decapitated head up through the hole, and there was a startled oath, followed by two thumps. Laboriously, they clambered up the uneven dirt ramp, soft earth a poor foothold, and then they made it to the top. They were not alone, a ring of men with crossbows and boar hunting spears waiting for them. Kravos was inspecting the severed head that had apparently landed before him, and next to him a villager was getting back to their feet.

“That’s it then,” Kravos said. “You did it.” He sounded like a burden had been lifted, but there was only a touch of joy to his tone.

Jack understood the feeling. “The White Balverine is dead. What happened here?”

“The beasts fled, eventually,” Kravos said. There was a gash on his bicep, and he leant on his warhammer. “They’ll be scattered halfway across the island now.”

Whisper let out a woosh of a breath. “A problem to deal with tomorrow.”

“Aye,” Kravos said. He looked around at his men, and the few Guards amongst them. “The sun will rise in a few hours. I think you Heroes have given enough tonight.”

“Where’s Klessan?” Jack asked suddenly. Seeing the evidence of battle had brought her circumstance roaring back to the front of his mind, dulled after the victory and the long walk back. “Her arm -” he cut himself off.

“Duran saw to her,” Kravos said, sympathetic. “He’s seeing to the other wounded now. There’s nothing left to do for her.”

A fire returned to him, burning away the fog that had descended. “I took her arm off the instant she was bitten,” he argued, half to persuade Kravos, half himself. “She’s not infected.”

Kravos glanced at one of his men, an island warrior like himself, and the tattooed man grimaced, but shrugged. “She’s resting under watch. We can see how she feels tomorrow.”

Jack wanted to argue, but Whisper’s hand on his shoulder stilled him. He let out a sigh. “Right. Right.”

Bending down, Kravos took up the snarling head, almost the size of a man’s torso on its own, and looked into its dead eyes for a long moment. He nodded, decisive. “We won’t forget this, Heroes,” he told them. “We would celebrate, but…” he shrugged tiredly, looking around at the ring of defenders. All were weary, and while none were wounded, any who had come within striking distance of the balverines were likely dead, infected, or incapable of fighting.

“Show me a bath, and we’ll call it even,” Jack said.

“Food,” Whisper said.

Kravos cracked a hint of a smile. “We can manage that, at least.” He looked down at the head he still held, grasped by its ears. “A fine trophy. I’ll have it thrown in a cellar until it can be dealt with.”

Vaguely, Jack felt that a trophy of that calibre was important, but at that point he couldn’t much bring himself to care. Almost as one, he and Whisper began to stagger towards the feast hall, leaving the hole and the gates and Scarlet’s shattered statue behind, Kravos giving muted orders at their backs. There was trouble yet to handle, and worries yet to come, but that was the business of tomorrow, and could be dealt with then. For now, they sought nothing but rest.

The siege of Knothole Glade had been broken.